


To The Fallen And The Lost Goes The Shadow's Glory

by BigSciencyBrain



Series: Solace [1]
Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Loki/Steve only if you squint, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping from Asgard, Loki goes into hiding on Midgard.  He is hiding from Asgard and from Thanos, but most of all, he doesn’t want anyone to discover his secret – he now has wings.  Although he is determined to remain undiscovered, he finds himself drawn once more into the affairs of the Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Fallen And The Lost Goes The Shadow's Glory

**Author's Note:**

> For Artist: piecrumbs - [Art on Tumblr](http://piecrmbs.tumblr.com/post/59552905882/the-piece-i-did-for-this-years-avengers-reverse)

It began as a stirring of pain as Loki fell from the Bifrost.

As the universe hurtled by and he fell toward nothing and everything, he swallowed down the pain and the fear. He waited for Death, but she never came.

Instead, the Chitauri found him. A broken God on a broken moon.

He felt the stirring again, felt it itching beneath his skin. There were more pressing tasks at hand. There was the Tesseract. Midgard’s Avengers rose to defend her honor and her soil.

And then, Asgard.

**

His prison is not overtly cruel. He isn’t bound. He is given food and water and books to read. But the silence, the solitude, wears as heavily as chains. The Allfather has cast him into a gilded oubliette to be lost forever.

He feels it again, stirring beneath his skin. It becomes a deep, unrelenting ache that nothing can ease. He cannot call for the healers, cannot ask for anything to dull the pain that finally rises to a pinnacle and leaves him hunched in agony on the floor of his cell. Skin tears with wet, slick sounds; blood drips down onto the bright, white stone floor.

Loki gasps; he chokes on his own breath. Then it is over and he feels the air around him stir. Feathers, black and gleaming as a volcano’s hearth bed, fall down around him and shelter him from the endless, tormenting brightness of his prison. He curls tighter inward, feeling unfamiliar limbs contract around him. Gingerly, he catches the edge of a feather with his fingertips and feels its silk-slick edge against his skin. 

Wings.

His stomach twists with disgust and horror; the aching in his chest now greater than the fading pain in his back. It isn’t enough that he is Jotun. Underneath the magic, he is made of ice and darkness and now he is a monster even the Frost Giants would revile. There is bitter laughter on his tongue and lips; had his abnormality been yet another of the Allfather’s secrets?

He finds a way to veil them from sight – a shimmer in the air that Thor will never notice – by the time the crown prince of Asgard lowers himself to come down into the dungeons and demand Loki’s help against Malekith and the Dark Elves.

At his first opportunity, he betrays Thor and flees into the Shadow Ways between the worlds, black wings wrapped tight around his blackened heart.

**

Loki comes to Midgard once again. This time, it is to hide in the one place that his enemies are least likely to look for him. He buries himself in the world, seething with rage and hate as he learns to blend in. The day will come when he would no longer have to hide amongst the rabble, but until then, he can be patient. He makes a home in New York City where he can watch the mortals struggle to rebuild what the Chitauri destroyed. 

At night, television pundits attack the Avengers, blaming them equally for the disaster. He smirks as he watches the corruption and petty machinations of Earth’s politicians. 

Tracking the various players on Midgard starts as a way to pass the time and becomes an obsession. He covers every wall of the meager apartment with clippings from newspapers and magazines, photos, maps, and scribbled notes. The Avengers are not the only ragtag team of do-gooders and Loki is not their only enemy. He tracks both sides, continuing to fill in bits information as he collects it. He bribes, steals, and spies; he finds ways past guards and firewalls and eagle-eyed assassins to snatch up whatever information he can find.

He ignores the perverse wings on his back. Perhaps they are a cruel joke played on him by the Allfather; perhaps they had always been there and they are the reason he was unwanted, a deformed infant left to die in the war between Asgard and Jotunheim. He thinks they might be a form of shape-shifting, another manifestation of his magic, just as his skin can turn from flesh to blue. There are many possibilities, but he has no way to be certain which is the right answer.

There is no reason to learn how to use them.

When Amora comes to Midgard and aligns herself with Baron Zemo, he is irritated. Her technique is lacking subtlety and her attempts to divide the Avengers laughable. Naturally, she goes after Banner and the Hulk first, trying to sow seeds of discord amongst the ranks. Even the green beast is not so stupid that he cannot eventually see through her tricks.

In all the information he’s gathered, it is assumed that there is no internal connection between Bruce Banner and the monster, but Loki no longer believes that. As he watches the Hulk and the others battle Amora and her Executioner, he catches moments where the Hulk appears to be listening to something unseen. A whisper inside his mind, perhaps, of Banner speaking reason. Amora escapes, of course, and the Avengers lick their wounds. 

Loki adds more notes to his walls, detailing out his theories in careful script. He adds the Winter Soldier, T’Challa, and Doctor Strange to the walls. He draws red Xs over the photographs of those who perish, villain and hero alike.

There is a lull, a peace of sorts, that seems fragile even to Loki. The Avengers take advantage of the relative quiet to pursue mortal pleasures. Stark and his consort take a vacation; Captain America retreats into the New York public library to read for hours and then sketches passersby as he sits outside various cafes. His expression is always serious and focused as he works. Loki steals several sketches to add to his collection. The routines of Black Widow and the Hawk differ very little in their leisure time. Banner ventures out of the safety of Stark Tower to give a lecture to a group of college students at a nearby university.

Loki attends the lecture because he is bored. He takes careless notes - the topic is primitive - and adds them to his collection as well.

Later, he pours a glass of wine and settles, cross legged, on the floor in front of the wall dedicated solely to the Avengers. He knows that Victor von Doom is occupied with repairing damage to his castle in Latveria. No doubt Amora and her henchman have retreated to one of the other Realms; he doesn’t care which. AIM is busily investigating a new weapon of mass destruction that the Avengers will inevitably face, but they have been dealt a setback due to an unpredictable power source. He supposes that HYDRA and AIM are indistinguishable as far as he is concerned; they are both faceless, overly complicated, and ultimately bureaucratic monstrosities with self-defeating objectives. He tallies up the rest of SHIELD’s enemies, where they are and what they are doing.

Thanos and the Chitauri have not come for Midgard a second time; Loki oscillates between relief and disappointment. As much as he would enjoy seeing Midgard crumble beneath Thanos’ fist, he is equally sure that he would face that wrath as well.

For now, he wishes only to be left alone.

**

At first, Loki cannot believe that he is the only one who sees what is happening.

Captain America lies buried beneath the crushed wreckage of an armored vehicle for a half an hour before Iron Man and Thor finish off their enemy – Loki has ceased to care if it is AIM or HYDRA – and arrive to unearth SHIELD’s Sentinel of Liberty. The Captain is not seen again for a week, no doubt ensconced within the healing room under the careful watch of Stark’s electronic servant.

Within a month, the Captain is shot several times as he chases after thieves. This time, it is the Black Widow who finds him and calls for help. She doesn’t arrive soon enough to see that the Captain did not raise his shield or try to protect himself.

Loki clears a section of the Avengers wall and begins to focus on Captain America. It appears the good Captain is not adjusting as well to modern life as the Avengers believe. The pattern of injuries, many of them avoidable, begin shortly after the emergence of the Winter Soldier. Loki considers that for a long time, staring up at the wall. Perhaps the Captain blames himself for his friend’s fall from grace and for the blood that now stains his hands. The good Captain is as much a sentimental fool as Thor.

During the next lull in activity, Loki monitors only the Captain. This time, he steals an entire sketchbook when Steve’s back is turned. 

Pouring through the sketchbook, he finds pictures of strangers, pictures of the other Avengers done in caricature, and pictures of James Barnes both as he used to be and as he is now. There are jagged edges in the back of the book where pages have been ripped out.

It isn’t the first time that Loki slips unnoticed and undetected into Stark Tower, but he does not like to make a habit of it. The reward is scarcely worth the risk of discovery. He makes his way to the rooms where Captain America lives. Everything is neat and organized; a place for everything and everything in its place. Curious, he spends too much time exploring the rooms and their rigid order. He nudges a shoe out of place, tips a picture frame off center, and takes one of the Captain’s novelty t-shirts as a souvenir.

The trashcan is empty, but Loki knows the Captain has not discarded the missing pages outside of the tower and continues looking. Eventually, he finds them folded neatly and pressed beneath the mattress on the bed.

He is shocked to see his own face staring up at him.

Most are carefully drawn with every line of his armor in place; the Captain has paid particular care to his helmet and the curves of the scepter. They appear to follow the events of his disastrous attempt to conquer Midgard; there is even a sketch of him muzzled and bound with Thor ready to return him to Asgard. The shape of Thor is there, but only the barest treatment is given, while Loki himself is neatly detailed in lines and shading. Several of them have been scribbled over with furious strokes that nearly cut through the paper and he cannot make out the full picture. 

He wraps the sketches carefully in the fabric of the shirt and takes them with him, caring little if the Captain discovers their disappearance. They go up onto the wall with the others.

With a feather – one of his own – he carefully works to clean away the thick, angry strokes that obscure the last sketches, teasing out the lines underneath with a breath of whispered magic. He knows intuitively that these sketches are the key to why the Captain felt compelled to hide them. When he manages to reclaim the first sketch, he is surprised to see that the Captain has drawn Loki without his armor. The underlying pencil strokes are hesitant and unsure. It is how the Captain imagines Loki would look in jeans and a t-shirt. He is barefoot in the sketch and his hair looks a tangle of dark waves. 

He doesn’t rest until the remaining sketches are cleaned. The final sketch is the most difficult to clear and unfinished. It is of Loki, as they all are, but this time the Captain has drawn him on the barest outline of a bed. He has taken care to get Loki’s profile exactly right, though there is the same hesitation visible in the lines of muscle and sinew of his arms and bare chest. The choice of position is a strange one; Loki is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, and looking away. There is a lover’s intimacy in the sketch.

The salvaged sketches go up on the wall. The Captain America section continues to grow.

Loki keeps the television tuned to the news all the time now, the voices a low muttering in the quiet. He begins to select out those enemies of SHIELD who pay particular attention to Captain America; he wonders if they too have realized that something is wrong. At best, the Captain is distracted and unfocused. At worst, he has become deliberately negligent in situations where he is in danger.

The stolen t-shirt is surprisingly soft and comfortable, though it no longer smells of the soap that the Captain uses. Loki begins to collect shirts of various colors and strange Midgardian symbols, as well as several pairs of jeans.

During an interview – the Captain had been thrown through a window and landed on the street several stories down – Stark makes a joke about ensuring the Captain will have all the apple pie he can eat while he recovers. It seems a strange comment to Loki but the reporter laughs and the conversation turns away from the Captain.

Loki learns to make apple pie. Midgardian apples are inferior, but the taste is acceptable.

Once the Captain is restored enough to rejoin the Avengers, Loki ventures out into the streets in their wake. He stays hidden in the shadows and watches. There is a new enemy, though perhaps for the Captain, he is not new. He names himself Crossbones and swears allegiance to Red Skull; it takes several encounters for the Avengers to determine that Red Skull is a title and not a reference to the man responsible for the Captain’s time in the ice.

This man, Crossbones, is yet a man. He is clever, Loki cedes, but only a mortal. 

When Loki realizes that Crossbones has also noticed the Captain’s strange behavior, his heart beats fast in his chest. It is uncomfortable and unwanted. He can see the trap spreading out around the Captain, with Crossbones serving as the bait and the other Avengers pulled away to fight puppets. The Captain’s fighting technique is quick, sharp, and not without adaptability, but even Loki can see that his heart is not in the fight. Though it should be easily won, Loki sees quite plainly that Crossbones is merely waiting for the right moment to tip the playing field in his favor.

The moment comes. 

Crossbones strikes and the Captain falls, suddenly exposed and vulnerable. There is only a fraction of a second for a decision to be made, so quick as to slip through a mortal’s perception with less impact than the blink of an eye. The glamour is simple, though Loki has never used it before. He merely pulls in shadows and cloaks himself with them even as he moves. He doesn’t think, only reacts.

Gunfire drums staccato into the night and Loki feels the impact of every bullet against his shadow draped armor. Great black wings fold around the Captain out of instinct rather than intent and shield him as certainly as the red, white, and blue.

“Who are you?” the Captain demands gruffly. He is on one knee in the street and blood stains his cheek with bright red. Blue eyes are wide with surprise; his breath is hot against Loki’s face.

Loki does not answer; to speak would break the illusion of shadow. Instead, he pulls away and heads for a darkened alley. He has bought the Captain enough time. The sound of gunfire has caught the attention of the other Avengers; he can hear the steady, crackling burn of Iron Man’s suit as it approaches. He is convinced now that the Captain has sought out this dance with Death, though perhaps he does not realize that is what he is doing.

Once returned to the safety of his burrow, he inspects each feather of his wings and finds the faint markings of bullets against their texture.

He wonders.

**

Both sides begin to ask questions and demand answers.

Loki smiles mirthlessly as he tacks a grainy surveillance photo up onto his wall. It is a question that neither SHIELD nor Crossbones can answer. In the picture, he is unrecognizable. There is only the shape of enormous wings enfolding Captain America and the trails of shadows falling away from the tightly wrapped veil that Loki had conjured. No one knows who he is. Their colleague, Professor Xavier, has come forward to say the black-winged figure is not one of his charges. Loki reminds himself to be wary of the Professor and his abilities.

He knows that Crossbones will not stop until the Captain is defeated and there is little Loki can do to protect the Captain from his own death wish. 

His eyes fall to the portraits drawn in the Captain’s hesitant strokes. He should not care if one of his enemies falls, but there is a mystery locked within the Captain that he has not yet solved. As he stares at his wall, a glass of wine loose in his hand, it seems to be a giant puzzle spread out over dull paint. The others do not interest him; they are jesters and assassins. The Captain is the only one among them who sought to see Loki as something other than a monster. The only one who, with a simple pencil, made any attempt to strip away the armor and discover what lay beneath. Loki wants to know why and his question cannot be answered if Crossbones kills the Captain; it is no more than that.

He cannot approach the Avengers as Loki; he is their enemy and will be their enemy as long as Thor is one of them. The news anchor’s rambling catches his attention and sends his thoughts spinning. He does not need a primitive costume as the mortal known as Spider Man does, but he shares the necessity of anonymity.

It is not just SHIELD that he must hide his face from, but also Heimdall.

He stirs, restless. Suddenly, his fall from the Bifrost feels as though it only just happened and he is once again trapped in the certainty of despair that left him no other choice.

Tentatively, he lets his attention move to the weight and tension at the joints where his wings meet his back. They are an ever-present heaviness, despite the glamour cast to hide them from sight. He brushes the glamour aside like a cobweb; the feathers shiver as he stretches. The wings respond with almost as much dexterity and control as his fingers. Fully unfurled, they fill the room and brush against the walls, much wider than he is tall. In this state, the feathers are soft and silken to the touch, but when he needed them to act as a shield they withstood bullets as well as his armor. If it was the Allfather who cursed him with this deformity, no doubt that feature is an unforeseen benefit.

There are no mirrors, so he conjures an image of himself and studies it thoughtfully. As the muscles in his back and shoulders shift, even slightly, he sees the motion play out across his wingspan. The illusion that he builds is made of layers of shadows, each as slender as a thread of spider’s silk. He weaves them together until they fit snug over his form. His face becomes a blank mask of shadow, his hair hidden against the curve of his neck. The green and tarnished metal of his armor darkens to black, their engravings and sigils completely obscured by the wrap of shadow.

The compulsion to see the Captain again is an itch beneath his skin. 

Perhaps the Avengers have noticed the Captain’s behavior; they seem to stick together more than usual as they make their way through one of the large warehouses down by the river. They are near the place where Crossbones has been hiding, though Loki knows that he has already moved to another location. There are traps left behind for the Avengers to find. The Black Widow and the Hawk dismantle them easily enough. Loki creeps close enough to hear them speaking, staying well hidden.

“Looks like we just missed him,” Iron Man says within his armor. One arm is still raised, ready to fire, as he scans the empty space.

Thor’s voice is too loud, a booming crack of thunder, and it grates on Loki’s nerves. He is speaking to the Captain. “We will get another chance at this enemy, my friends. And we will defeat him.” 

Iron Man seems to determine that there is nothing of interest around them and drops his arm. His armor makes soft noises, much like the clicking of dragon scales, as he walks. “If SHIELD is right and this guy is targeting Cap, pretty sure he’ll come to us.”

The Captain does not respond and his expression is hidden by the mask of his uniform. 

Loki slips away and moves to the roof of the old building. From his vantage point, he realizes that the Avengers have not gone unnoticed. Beyond the entrance to the building, he sees a group of men assembling in the dim light cast by the security lighting along the sides of the buildings. He recognizes Crossbones, as little more than a burst of white in the shadows. They have come for a fight and mean to ambush the Avengers as they leave the warehouse. Loki considers his options. The men below offer little threat to Iron Man or Thor; they are mortal men with mortal weapons that are inferior both to Iron Man’s armor and to Mjolnir.

His choice is all but made for him when the fighting begins. The Captain’s first move is to place himself between Crossbones’ men and the mortal members of his team. 

In the chaos, Loki sees an opportunity to end Crossbones’ vendetta against the Captain once and for all. With nothing more than instinct to guide him, he races to the edge of the building and leaps into the night. He feels the pull and tug of gravity before black wings catch the air and, suddenly, he is weightless. He needs only to glide, stretching his wings wide. They are far more sensitive to his control than he expected.

He aims for Crossbones and knocks the man into the dirt. Crossbones is rolling and climbing to his feet as Loki lands.

“You,” Crossbones snarls. He raises his weapons.

The bullets ricochet off of Loki’s armor and, with only two steps, he is close enough to test his theory. He wills the feathers to change even as his wings draw back and then drive forward. The primary feathers gleam like daggers the moment before a half dozen of them cut through Crossbones’ chest; he is no more than a mouse beneath an eagle. Impaled on razor sharp feathers, Crossbones convulses as he dies. Loki pulls his wings back and lets the lifeless body fall to the ground. The other men have scattered now that their leader is fallen.

Iron Man is the first to break the silence. “Not exactly a good guy then.”

Loki turns toward the Avengers. They show no gratitude for his help, but he hadn’t expected that from any of them. They are suspicious and still tensed for an attack. The Captain watches him for a moment and then turns his face away. 

“Are you friend or foe?” Thor demands, Mjolnir still in hand.

Blood drips from the tips of his feathers. Loki stays perfectly still. He does not fear that they will harm him, but that they might attack and strip away his mask to reveal his true identity.

“Maybe he can’t talk,” Iron Man says quietly. “Did he say anything before, Cap?”

The Captain only shakes his head. Finally, he lets his shield arm fall to the side and starts forward. Loki has seen this more than once. The Captain is the face and the voice of the Avengers when they need diplomacy.

“Thank you for your help,” the Captain begins. His voice is firm and rings with authority that has been earned. “We were hoping to capture Crossbones alive. He had information that we needed. But thank you.”

Loki resists the desire to laugh. He shakes his head, remaining silent.

“Can you tell me your name?” the Captain persists.

“Anyone have a pen and paper?” Iron Man asks in the background.

Loki reaches out and plucks a single feather from his right wing. It is nearly as long as his forearm. Carefully, he uses the tip to scratch into the packed dirt at their feet.

“Is that…” the Captain stops when he realizes it is not a name that Loki is writing in the earth. “It’s an address.” He looks up again and there is a new expression in his blue eyes. “Do you have a name?”

Loki stares at him for a moment before he shakes his head. He lets the feather fall to the ground. To stay longer is to risk discovery. He puts his trust in his wings as he springs into a run and then leaps from the ground, feeling them catch the air and pull him upward. It is awkward at first, but he finds a rhythm that lifts him up into the night sky. He banks to the right, circling the area below. SHIELD vehicles are beginning to arrive to remove the bodies of Crossbones and his men. Whether or not the Avengers investigate the address he scratched into the dirt, where they would find the information they seek, is not his concern.

Below, the Captain is holding a long black feather in his hands.

When he returns to his home, Loki marks a red X over the picture of Crossbones pinned to the wall and then washes the blood from his feathers. A strange feeling settles at the pit of his stomach as he watches rust colored water trail away down the drain of the cracked porcelain sink.

**

It is not long before Loki realizes that the Captain is hunting him.

He is alone in his pursuit and the other Avengers do not seem to question his purpose for venturing out into the night. Beginning in the places where Loki intervened, the Captain begins a slow radius, asking questions as he goes. The endeavor is not lacking danger to the Captain himself, but his expression is set and determined. He carries with him a sketch, carefully folded, of a shadow with wings. Despite finding nothing, not even the barest of clues, he continues to go out night after night.

Loki also notices that the Captain is more careful in battle now, as though he too needed a mystery to pull him from whatever darkness had overtaken him.

The change in behavior eases Loki's mind, though it presents a different problem. Now that someone is actively seeking him out, he must be ever vigilant in his efforts to remain concealed and undiscovered. More times than not, he chooses to keep to the shadows rather than allow the Avengers to know he is watching them. Each time, however, the Captain's eyes sweep over the shadows and search for him.

It becomes a game.

Loki allows the Captain to see a glimpse, an outline, or hear the beat of great wings against the night air. In turn, Loki finds more subtle ways to intervene. He cuts the brake lines in a vehicle, preventing the criminals from escaping. Another night, he dives between two buildings, the tips of his wings skimming the brick walls on either side, and snatches up the criminal that the Avengers are chasing. He drops the man, unharmed, into a dumpster. When the Avengers bring the man into SHIELD's custody, he is babbling of Valkyries and clutching a long black feather.

The Captain catches him on a crisp night with a heavy harvest moon overhead, just as Loki is about to leap from the roof of a building.

"Wait!" he calls. He stops several dozen feet away, hand outstretched in a plea. 

Loki stays on the edge, but turns around. He can feel the empty space behind him and the wind rustles through his wings.

"I know you've been helping us," the Captain continues softly. His voice is steady and his movements slow, as though approaching a wild bird. "If you're in trouble or something, if you need help. If that's why you're hiding, I can help you."

It is the cool wind that snatches away his breath, Loki tells himself, not the twisting inside his chest where his heart used to be. The Captain is concerned that Loki himself needs to be protected or perhaps even saved, once again setting himself apart from the title of warrior. He hesitates, watching as the Captain continues to take slow steps forward. For a moment, he considers the possibility that the Captain is sincere, that his words are plainly spoken, but it is far more likely that the Captain is the distraction while the other Avengers surround him.

In a single motion, he turns and then he is plummeting downward toward the street. Flying has become second nature now; the beating of his wings as natural and thoughtless as breathing. He climbs up, circling back, and glances down to see the Captain watching him, alone, from the rooftop.

It was not a trap.

On nothing more than a whim, he tucks and dives downward again. The Captain has time only to brace himself before Loki reaches him. His arms wrap around the Captain, holding tight, and he feels the exact moment the Captain's entire weight is his to bear. They go over the edge and start to fall. The Captain's arms circle around Loki's neck and shoulders, resting inches above the joint of his wings. It takes only a few strokes for Loki to adjust to the extra weight and then he is climbing again, the Captain pressed tight against him and their legs tangled together.

Once in the sky, he is no longer Loki. He is not the monstrous offspring of Frost Giants; the malformed bastard raised alongside Odin’s true son. He is not the villain who brought the Chitauri to Midgard and an enemy of SHIELD. Here, he is just a shadow flying through the darkness. He can forget everything here, where nothing matters but the beat of his wings.

He has no destination in mind, only the desire to share this world above the city that he has discovered. No doubt Thor or Iron Man could show the Captain the same, but there is no burning of thrusters and no booming thunder, only the beat of Loki's wings against the air. He climbs high up into the sky, then wraps them both in a cocoon of feathers to let them tumble back, weightless and free-falling. He feels the Captain's grip tighten, feels his breath hot on his neck. At the bottom of the fall, Loki spreads his wings, finds a steady updraft of warm air, and they spiral out into an easy glide. 

This is a risk that he should not be taking, a risk that the Captain will discover his identity, but he is still reluctant to turn toward Stark Tower.

They soar past buildings, merely a shadow against the lights of the city, until they reach the Tower. Loki slows. The Captain's boots touch down on the landing surface meant for Iron Man. A moment later, Loki settles down. Air rushes around them as he makes several more slow strokes with his wings. Only then does the Captain release his hold and take a step back.

"That was amazing," the Captain says. There is a smile on his lips as he holds out his hand. "Steve Rogers."

Loki accepts his hand tentatively. The Captain’s grip is firm.

“I meant what I said. If you need help.”

Motion catches Loki’s attention and he sees that they have not arrived unnoticed. Stark is standing in the doorway, watching them intently. Loki lets the Captain’s hand fall and steps back to the edge. He is gone in another moment, his wings carrying him away into the night. Several blocks away, he lands in a darkened alley and emerges on foot.

He walks through the front door of Stark Tower, completely unnoticed.

As he makes his way to where he knows the Avengers gather after a night spent fighting against their enemies, he considers ways that Stark could modify the electrical beast within the Tower’s walls to detect his presence. There are several ideas he will take care to ensure that Stark never considers.

With the noise that Thor makes, it is relatively easy for Loki to eavesdrop at the door to the room.

“I would’ve taken you flying, all you had to do was ask,” Stark says.

“It’s not…it wasn’t like that, Tony.”

“Next time you decide to take a joyride, I’d rather you went out with a nice boy like Falcon. At least I know what side he’s on.”

“He’s been helping us,” the Captain insists. “He might be in trouble. The world doesn’t always embrace people who are different. I think something happened to him.”

Stark’s sigh is heavy. “Did you at least learn anything interesting about the morally ambiguous guy with wings?”

“He wears armor, I could feel it. And a type of mask, but it felt different than any fabric I know.”

“Explains the bulletproof part. Sort of.”

Agent Barton’s voice is muffled. “So we’ve got a mutant off the reservation and he’s not afraid to get his feathers bloody.”

“Steven is right,” Thor says. “This man has aided us. He is our friend.”

“Nothing’s that simple.” Stark’s voice rises and falls as he moves around within the room. “Isn’t that right, Agent Romanoff? I’m sure SHIELD has an opinion.”

“They want us to figure out who this guy is,” Natasha answers blandly. “Fury didn’t say how. Maybe we bag and tag him, see if he can talk with a little persuasion.”

“Guys, hold up,” the Captain protests. “I will find him, I just need more time.”

“Needle in a haystack, Cap, and the rest of us are growing old while you knock on doors,” Stark argues. “We need a better needle detector.”

“If you can find this man,” Thor begins slowly and there is a clear note of hope in his voice. “Then I must ask of favor of you, my friends.”

The Captain answers immediately, “Whatever you need, Thor.”

“It is my brother. Loki.”

Loki stills, holding his breath. Has he somehow been discovered by Asgard? He had been careful to cover his tracks when he came to Midgard so that even Heimdall could not follow his path.

Thor continues. “My father believes that he will return to Midgard, if he has not already.”

“He’s here?” Stark nearly shouts.

“It is possible, but I do not know for certain. Heimdall has been searching for Loki since his escape, but he did well to hide himself. If he has returned, I fear what retribution he may seek against you.”

Loki pulls away from the door. He has heard enough. Rather than leave immediately, he seizes the opportunity to visit the Captain’s chambers once again. He finds it as neatly organized as before. This time, he leaves everything in place. There is a sketchbook lying open on the desk. He flips through the pages slowly. There are sketches of him as the shadow with wings, but there are also new sketches of him as himself. 

Pinned to one wall, much like Loki’s own collection, is a map of the city. The Captain has placed black pins in locations where he saw Loki. There is a grid pattern sketched out over the streets, allowing the Captain to track where he has searched. Loki stares at the map for a long time before he makes a decision. Finally, he carefully selects one of the small black feathers from the inside of his right wing and pulls it loose. He pierces the map with the quill in the location of the place where he has been hiding. He takes nothing this time and leaves hurriedly.

It is a matter of minutes to collect anything that might give away his true identity. Of his collection, he takes only the sketches of himself, making empty places on the wall. The rest, he leaves for the Avengers to find. A single cardboard box filled with his belongings and the Captain’s sketches are all he takes when he closes the door behind him.

**

Loki’s new nest is more suitable. 

The high ceiling and open space mean that he can spread his wings fully rather than keeping them tucked tightly against his body. He begins to fill the space with mortal comforts. Couches and chairs are uncomfortable to sit in, so he finds wide benches that allow his wings to hang over the edge. The Captain’s sketches are carefully framed and hung on a wall. Black paint over the glass panes of the windows ensures that he is protected from prying eyes, though he is unlikely to be disturbed in the small corner of New York City that he has claimed as his own.

In the silence, he begins to wonder if he has forgotten how to speak.

The Captain continues to search for him; he seems more determined than ever. Loki knows that he followed the feather to his previous location because a dozen SHIELD agents converged on the building within a day’s time to remove everything that Loki had collected.

There are nights now where he does not return until dawn has begun, having spent the twilight hours soaring above the light and noise of the city. Sometimes he watches the Avengers, sometimes he doesn’t. Many times, he finds the Captain on a rooftop and catches him up into the air; he is the only person Loki feels he can share this strange freedom with. His identity remains safely hidden beneath the mask of shadows and the Captain does not try to remove the disguise. The Captain speaks little and makes no demands; he thanks Loki for his help when it is given and reiterates his offer of aid should it be needed.

It is a night where he is high above the city, lost in the starlight and in the wind, that he sees the flashes of lighting around Stark Tower and then a ball of fire explodes in the sky. It is so bright that he has to shield his eyes. As he banks and begins to turn toward the Tower, he can hear sirens below. There is panic in the streets; people are running away from the Tower.

The roar of the Hulk is deafening.

Loki recognizes this enemy immediately and his blood runs cold. It seems that the Allfather is not the only one who believes Loki to be on Midgard. He dives, tucking his wings and feeling the air sting his face as he hurtles toward the base of Stark Tower. He has only seconds to note the location of the Avengers. They are not alone; many of their allies have joined them. He knows it will not be enough; this is an enemy they are unprepared to fight.

It is Thor who has openly confronted Thanos. They are locked in a battle with Mjolnir pitted against Thanos’ energy. Around them, the rest of the Avengers are picking off the squadron of Chitauri who followed their master to Midgard. It is not a large force, no doubt they are considered expendable by the Titan. Thanos does not appear concerned by the fact that his Chitauri are losing ground to the heroes of Earth.

“For Midgard!” Thor bellows as he raises Mjolnir to the sky to gather more lightning.

Thunder sounds like cannons in the sky above. Loki lands away from the battle and pulls himself into the shadows. This is a battle that cannot be won by might. He searches his mind, pulling together scattered thoughts into a plan as he scans the wreckage of the street in front of him. The Hulk will be done with what is left of the Chitauri forces soon, leaving Loki only a small window of time in which to act.

He waits until the Captain signals the others that it is time to come to Thor’s aid.

Shouting rises up through the smoke and dust as a perfect image of Loki, without wings and gleaming in his Asgardian armor and horned helmet, walks unconcerned toward where Thor and Thanos are facing each other. None of the others attempt to stop him. The Captain gestures and they begin to move toward Thor, cautious, but not approaching the Loki that they perceive. It is not so good an illusion that it will fool Thanos for long, but it only has to be long enough. 

In the chaos, it is easy for Loki to whisper silently; the words are not meant for ears to hear but for a mind to catch.

“Trickster,” Thanos says, his voice resonating in the night air. “You thought you could hide yourself from me. You were wrong.”

“Leave this Realm,” the image of Loki replies. “Your quarrel is with me, not them.”

Thanos sneered. “Have you grown fond of the vermin in your exile, fallen prince?”

“You came for me.” The other Loki stops, holding his hands out to his sides. “Here I am. Take your revenge and leave.”

“Loki,” Thor says. “Do not do this.”

Thanos’ eyes narrow. “You are made of tricks and lies. You would not offer your life so willingly.”

Thor’s grip on Mjolnir tightens visibly. “If it is my brother’s life you have come for, you will leave empty handed.”

The illusion of Loki continues to stand between Thor and Thanos, acting both as a focus point and as a target. A shout breaks the silence as another Loki appears, armor gleaming, and walks toward the first. Then another and another and another, until there is an army of them. Thor is frowning, glancing from illusion to illusion as he tries to determine which is real. Thanos merely sneers.

“You cannot fool me,” Thanos growls.

All of the Lokis speak in unison and the chorus of their voices is a terrible shout in the air. “I merely thought you might want more than one of me upon which to vent your frustration at your failure to conquer such a little world as this.” 

“It was you who failed me.” Thanos strikes out at the nearest Loki but it is gone before his enormous fist can connect. A moment later, another appears in its place.

There is one variable that Loki cannot control; he will simply have to assume that Thor is not a complete idiot. It is only moments before Thanos tires of the game and focuses on finding the true Loki, but enough distraction has been provided that the others are in place.

With the Professor’s voice inside their heads to guide them, they move as though this dance is choreographed and well-practiced. Iron Man is the first; he darts into the air above Thanos, focusing his energy straight at the ground and pinning Thanos momentarily in place. The others close in around him. Doctor Strange’s magic is already beginning to form a portal in the air. Loki doesn’t know where Strange has chosen to send Thanos and he doesn’t care. 

One by one, each route of escape Thanos turns toward is cut off until Doctor Strange has completed his work. With a roar and giant fists, the Hulk smashes Thanos toward the portal again and again. Thanos howls as he teeters between the worlds. Hulk grins triumphantly the moment before he delivers the last blow.

The portal snaps closed. Thanos is not dead, only temporarily expelled. With a shimmer, all of the images of Loki disappear.

“Loki!” Thor shouts, turning in circles as he searches. “Show yourself!”

Loki pulls deeper into the shadows and slips away. 

**

Loki sleeps for days afterward, his wings curled tight around him. 

When he rouses himself, he is ravenous. It has been some time since he ventured out into the world during the light of day and he finds himself far too conscious of the black wings on his back, despite knowing that no one can see them beneath the glamour.

Once he has eaten, he is all too glad to return to the silence of his nest and wait for night to fall.

The sun has barely dipped below the horizon before he is climbing the rusted fire escape that clings to the red brick skin of the old building. With the last rays of daylight on his back, he races toward the edge of the roof and then up into the sky. For hours, he circles, swoops, and dives in the playground above the city that he has made his own.

When he looks down, he realizes that he has flown near Stark Tower. It glows bright as a beacon in the night. There is a man standing on the balcony, looking out over the city.

The Captain is wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of his uniform. There is a smile on his lips when he hears the sound of wings and turns. Loki’s feet touch the surface for only a moment before he has caught the Captain in his arms and they are climbing into the night sky. He loses himself in the glory of flight and the smell of the Captain’s soap. Even when he is beginning to tire from carrying their combined weight, he is reluctant to start back toward the Tower. He returns the Captain, landing them both gently on the smooth surface. As he turns to leave, the Captain finally speaks.

“Loki.”

Loki freezes, stunned by the sound of his name.

“Can I tell Thor that you’re okay?” the Captain asks softly.

Slowly, Loki turns to face the Captain. He lets the veil of shadows fall away so the Captain can see him clearly. The leather and metal of his armor is scuffed and tarnished. Then that vanishes as well and he stands in blue jeans and a worn _Captain America_ t-shirt, his feet bare. He is as the Captain had imagined him and drawn him with hesitant strokes of a pencil, except for one detail. There is no point in trying to hide them, but he tucks his wings tightly against his sides and back.

“Are you okay?”

Loki blinks. The ache in his chest where his heart used to be returns and he wants to speak even though no words will come. 

“Thank you,” the Captain says. He gestures to the sky above them. “It really is amazing. What you can do. The flying, I mean.”

In the dim light, Loki can see that the Captain’s cheeks are flushing red. He forces his tongue to come unstuck from the roof of his mouth and, for the first time in what feels like the age of a Realm, he speaks.

His voice feels rough from disuse. “I am well enough.”

The Captain nods. “Thor will be glad to know.”

Suddenly there are a thousand words clamoring for space in Loki’s mouth and he almost chokes as he swallows them down. In the end, he speaks only one word before he turns back to the open air and flees into the night sky. 

“Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used this fic as a jumping off point for a series that I called _Solace_. It is fairly complicated and has an overarching plot. With a happy ending!
> 
> I plan to write more of this, a few branches off of the core series itself, and explore more bits of this Winged!Loki universe.
> 
> And someday, I will have found all of the typos.


End file.
